I’m a numbers guy. It’s my day job and I’m good at it. Numbers always have a story to tell and can lead you to things that aren’t always apparent on the surface. That’s why I can’t help but think about them sometimes when I think about my dad. Today is my birthday and I’m 38 years old. He’s been gone over two years. I have now spent about 5% of my life without my dad. How is that possible?
My dad was 35 when I was born and 37 when my sister was born. I was 35 when my son was born and 38 when our next child is born in a couple months.
My dad was 70 years old when he passed away. I’m more than halfway there. 70 will be here in the blink of an eye if the rate time has been speeding up and passing by, especially over the past few years, is any indication. One thing my dad’s passing has helped me with immensely is the fear of death. My eyes are much more open to that reality and death is something I’ve come to learn a lot about in the past couple years. I’m much more prepared for it, although not even close to ready for it, and try to appreciate everything life has to offer with that perspective.